


'Cause There's No Name For It

by ghettoassenglishman



Series: He's Just Like His Daddy [9]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 2 Years Ahead of Grace's birth, Bathtubs, Fluff, M/M, Parenthood, Singing, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 17:25:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4108984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon Asked! : Prompt: "Shh Mickey be quiet. Our children are asleep." Set after Mickey has the 2nd baby. Maybe a year or so??</p><p>Ian puts their children to bed and finds Mickey singing in the bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Cause There's No Name For It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I really loved this prompt, I thought it was extremely cute. Hope you like it! I'm really enjoying writing this series at the moment, so I hope you enjoy reading:)
> 
> Owen is nearly 6 in this, and Grace is two. (Just turned)
> 
> Song Mickey sings is: Universally Speaking - Red Hot Chilli Peppers. This is my all time favourite of theirs and I HAD to include it after I heard my dad blasting it through the house.

Ian closes the door quietly to Owen's room, holding his two-year-old daughter against his chest. Her stark black-hair brushed against his neck, her head resting against his shoulder, arms flung around his neck, as she snored quietly. Slowly, he walks towards the small bed-room at the end of the hall, opening the door and walking over to the small-single bed in the corner of the room. He pulls back the covers and lays her down against the mattress, kissing her hair as he did so.

Grace was the spitting image of Mickey; the black-hair, the scrawny, small build, the bright place skin. However, unlike Owen, Grace had taken on Ian's attributes. She was slightly sensitive, always showering her lob-sided grin wherever she went. What Ian really loved, was that she still held Mickey's drive to prove anyone wrong. . Even at two, Grace had shown herself to be some kind of hard-nut, never did she ever take any shit of anyone. But most-of all, it was clear as day that she idolized her big brother – Owen would push her away with annoyance, but it didn't stop her from copying every single action, word or gesture he displayed.

Now they had been doing it for five or so years, through parenting Ian would notice how much Owen and Grace were like them; how they would act the same, talk the same, inherit little features and traits that they hadn't even noticed existed until now - like Owen's constant sniffle in his sleep - something he got from Mickey, for definite. Ian thought it was cute, where as Mickey would say it was creepy how they got along so nicely.

Ian was glad of it; they didn't have to deal with scraps between the two until they were at least aged in double digits.

He turns on the night-light beside the bed, tucking her in before placing a kiss against her black-hair, combing it out of her face. After taking in how wonderful, and how lucky he was to have two amazing kids, he steps out of the bedroom closing the door half-way before he heard some vibrant noise coming from his and Mickey's bedroom.

Ian was on bedtime duty that night, and told Mickey to shower after his long and tiring day out in the garage. It wasn't a lie that Ian loved Mickey all dirty and slightly sweaty, but it some-what irritated him when he'd kiss Mickey and oil would smudge against his skin when they started to get more physical.

It was music; he could tell by the soft but vivid beat that repeated itself before a tune of guitar kicked in. It was pretty loud, and for some reason Mickey had no sense of hearing at this point, or the fact that they had children. Ian rolls his eyes, huffing out in tiredness as he made his way into their room. Opening the door he notices that the room is empty, just a pile of sprawled out clothes of Mickey's against the bed.

The tune is slightly louder, _too_ loud when it took him almost two hours just to get the kids to go to bed. He walks over to the bathroom, the evident source of the sound, and knocks against the wooden panel. “Hey, Sh Mick, be quiet. Our children _are_ sleeping, you know.” No answer. This time though, he hears something else, a voice. 

_Was Mickey fucking singing?_ He listens in further, waiting out for the out of tune voice to echo through the walls. “Holy shit.” Ian laughs to himself, Mickey was blaring out his lungs to The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, his voice cracking at each note. Ian pushes the door open with force and giggles when he sees the rare sight. 

Mickey's laid back in the bath rub, bubbles up to his pecks, eyes closed as he sang to the song that played through the headphones he had plugged into his phone. Ian crosses his arms, standing by the frame of the door as Mickey continued to sing awfully, a little out of sync, but none the less into it. “Mickey.” He says again, a little louder. 

It's useless, Mickey's trapped in his own element. Instead, he does the drum beat with his hands before singing insanely louder. “... Silveretta the jets of a lifetime...Go and get her I've got her on my mind...” Mickey takes a breath, still oblivious to Ian's presence as he tries to hit a high note, voice cracking. Ian laughs, rubbing his thumb against his eyebrow as the play-out infront of him carried on. 

Mickey bobbed his head as he sang out, “Nothing better the feeling is so  _fine_ ...Simply put I saw your love stream  _flow._ ..” However, that time was a little louder, echoing throughout the bathroom and into the bedroom and Ian was sure that the kids would hear it, for sure. He walks over to the bath, pulling out the headphones from Mickey's ears and raising his eyebrows. 

“What the fuck?!” Mickey yelps, jolting in the water causing it to tip over the edge and splash against Ian's feet. He's mortified. Eyes wide as a bats wings, he looks away in embarrassment as Ian giggles from the side of the bath. 

Ian shrugs, turning off the music still playing through Mickey's phone. “You do know that it took me like two fucking hours just to get them asleep.” He wasn't annoyed, but he would be if the kids were running about through the apartment because Mickey's extremely loud singing woke them up. 

Mickey doesn't answer, he's still red from being caught in the act of extreme passionate singing, and he might even be scarred at the fact that he got so lost in the music and he was entirely oblivious to Ian watching him. He bites against his thumbnail, still not looking up at Ian. A little guilty in the fact that Ian looked all worn out from chasing Grace and Owen about all night. 

“Mickey,” Ian tries again, running a hand through his hair. He hates when Mickey's quiet, and for some reason he felt regret for barging in and ruining his enjoyable singing that he was lost in. “Why are you in the bath anyway? The bubbles and stuff. Not really you, is it.” 

Mickey finally scoffs, playing with the bubbles against his chest. “What? Can a grown man not enjoy a hot fucking bath. Our five year old had bubbles in his bath, is it a crime to have them in mine? Get off my ass, man.” He leans forward and grabs the soap, rubbing it into his skin grouchily. 

Ian rolls his eyes, “That's because he's  _five,_ Mick.” 

In retaliation, Mickey scoops some water up and chucks it towards Ian with a frown. “Fuck off, man, if I want bubbles I can have fucking bubbles. This is the US of fucking A, I should be allowed this freedom.” Despite trying to act like Ian had pissed him off, Ian could clearly see the tug against Mickey's lips.  _Never changes._

Ian slaps Mickey's wet shoulder, dodging the resulting hit, he laughs to himself before he runs a hand over his face. “Okay, Mr President, you can have your god forsaken bubbles, I'm going to bed.” He scratches the back of his neck, before drawing Mickey's attention when he points to his phone. “No singing.”

“Jesus, fine.” Mickey huffs.

As Ian heads for the door he's stopped when a wet hand catches his wrist. He turns around to see Mickey looking up to him with wide, innocent eyes – something Owen did whenever he wanted his own way _or_ was up to something. “What is it?” He asks, tiredly, enjoying the soft, wet touch of Mickey's fingers against his skin.

“C'mere.” Mickey encourages, slightly tugging against his hand.

Ian tilts his head, narrowing his eyes; Mickey was definitely up to something. There was a slight glint of mischievousness in his eyes that Ian both loved and feared for. In a sigh, Ian closes his eyes delicately shut. “What is it, Mick, I'm really tired-”

“Just c'mere, I need to tell you somethin'” Mickey's thumb rubs against his wrist as the brunette tugged and tugged against his arm. Ian finally gave up, shuffling along the wet tiles and to the edge of the bath. He slaps his hand against his leg when Mickey didn't do or say anything, and Mickey only pulls him closer.

Mickey still hadn't told him anything yet and Ian was really fucking tired, so he huffs out a breath, rolling his eyes at Mickey's questionable behaviour. “ _Come_ on, Mick. What do you want?” And Mickey winks. He fucking _winks._

Ian instantly knows something was going to happen. Something devious.

Mickey licks his lips, starting, “It's just that-” He doesn't manage to finish his sentence because he's suddenly hauling Ian over the edge of the bath and sending him tumbling into the water with a splash. Mickey flinches as Ian's body hits against his own and _really_ can't contain his laughter when Ian starts to splutter and cough out bubbles, in shock of the whole thing.

The redhead finally breathes when his face lifts from the water, his expression in all words unimpressed. His red hair is stuck against his face, water pooling at the tips of his eyelashes. Ian scowls, his shirt soaked, pants turned black, face all red. He slaps Mickey's chest harshly, yelling a little. “What the _fuck_ was that for?”

Mickey places his wet finger against the adorable-fuckers lips. “Sh, _Ian,_ our kids are asleep.” He winks again, bubbling with laughter as he repeated Ian's previous words. Ian had to admit, it was pretty funny.

“Fuck you, you asshole.” Ian whimpers, still trying to get the water out of his eyes. He's laid in an awkward position against Mickey's bare chest, head resting at the other man's stomach, hands all over the place, one leg still hanging over the edge of the bath. Mickey was such a dick and he was _laughing_ at Ian's expense, all Ian could do was pout and pretend to hate the feeling of being in the water with Mickey.

“ _Asshole?”_ Mickey laughs, absently running a hand through Ian's hair. “You're the one who fucking barged in here like some US fucking spy or something.”

Ian slaps him again, scowling up at him. He was cold, tired, and a little bit hot now they were so close together. He tries to shift in the water but nothing comes from it, he'd be stuck like that forever and Owen and Grace would walk in the next morning wondering how the hell it got all crazy, _and_ would probably would question why Mickey used the last of the bubbles.

Before they both knew it, Ian was laughing again. “What's with all the secret service references?”

Mickey curses under his breath, before he pinches Ian's shoulder. “Owen keeps making me watch that Kingsman shit, it's like embedded into my fucking brain. Kid just doesn't know when to stop, I feel like I could act that shit out by heart.” It gave him quality time with his son, though, and he wouldn't complain about that _ever._

“ _Ow.”_ Ian rubs a hand through his shirt, pouting. “That's a good movie. Owen has taste.”

The older boy scoffs to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not when you watch it ten fucking times a day. It's really irritating actually.” It only reminded him of when he'd made Ian watched Double Impact three nights in a row when he had been pregnant with Grace. Guess he understood why Ian would always moan all the time.

“Well, suck it up. He won't grow out of that for another two months.” Ian smirks. It was always perfect to see how good of a father Mickey was. Through all the bullshit they had been through Mickey was the most scared to how his parenting skills would turn out; world has it, Mickey couldn't be any better.

***

When they had finally left the bath-tub, after a couple of minutes of slapping and pinching each-other playfully, they struggled but succeeded in getting out of the tub in one piece. Mickey had shoved Ian a little, playfully, as he giggled like an idiot at Ian's surprised but unamused expression. Ian had stripped from his wet-look clothes, tossing them into the corner, leaving to pick them up in the morning, and pulled a towel around his waist. Mickey did the same, ruffling his hair a little, spraying water droplets in Ian's direction.

Ian shielded himself, moving away from the cold spray. “Jesus, Mickey, cut it out.”

“What you going to do about it?” Mickey challenges, sticking his tongue to the side of his mouth. He then waves his hair like a dog, spraying Ian with all the little droplets of cold water that clung to the strands of his hair. Ian yelps, yanking the door open to the bathroom and ran into their room. Mickey followed, shouting something along the lines of _Gallagher,_ before he looked over to their bed.

In a whisper, they stood still, Mickey spoke. “How the fuck-” Owen and Grace were snuggled into the middle of their bed, both lying on their fronts, snoring quietly. Owen's hair was brighter than ever, sprayed against the pillow, his small body cooped up against his sisters. Grace was curled in the foetus position, one hand against his mouth as she sucked her thumb in her sleep. They did this most nights – usually they would knock, or just walk through and climb into their bed, and Mickey was a little scared of how sneaky the two could be when they teamed up.

Ian shrugged. “They probably had nightmares after hearing your singing.” He smiled towards the two, his heart clenching with awe when he noticed Owen's little protective hand rest against Grace's back. Mickey slaps his shoulder, flipping him the bird before they quietly wrestled by the dresser to grab a pair of sweats each.

As soon as they both pull on their pants, Ian ruffles his hair into the towel before walking over to his side of the bed. Mickey glares at him before his face softens at the sight of their children. That feeling never went away and Mickey never wanted it to. Ian takes off his watch and places it against the night-stand before gently slipping under the quilt next to Grace. Mickey does the same, trying not the make the springs bounce as he slid into the other side.

Ian turns to his side, combing a hand through Grace's tussled black hair, facing Mickey. “I'm starting to think that they use to this bed more than we do, you know.” He whispers, causing Mickey to split into a grin across the bed. It would be strange _not_ to do this; because it happened almost every night. 

Mickey sighs, scooting closer to their son and resting a hand against Owen's back. “It's better than them sneaking out and shooting at elderly people, isn't it.” Ian snorts from across the bed, shaking his head against the pillow. “Mick, they are _five_ and _two,_ why the hell would they do that?”

“I did.” Mickey confesses, smirking a little. 

Ian smirks, hand tracing along Grace's small back. “I bet you did.” He looks over to the two children, thanking for whatever higher power allowed this much luck. He glances over to Mickey, the brunettes expression exact to his, before he whispers. “They are _so_ cute.”

“Yeah,” Mickey breathes, as if he's in a dream of some-sort, In which sometimes he thought he was – he had never thought that this was how things would turn out. With Ian. With a family that was _theirs._ It was strange to think that years ago he could hardly look after the both of them, never mind two kids, but it was worth it. It was worth it because he got to see Ian's face light up whenever they were in sight – now _that_ was something of a dream.

Ian shifts a little, pulling the cover further over his body and up over the two sleeping. Mickey's eyes were drooping, his dopey smile clear through the darkness, glowing through his adoration of their children. Ian speaks sweetly, face soft. “Wouldn't change it for the world.”

Mickey reaches over, grabbing onto Ian's hands before he smiled widely. “Yeah, me too.”


End file.
